


Interesting Act for the Post

by gwyllion



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-26
Updated: 2010-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 17:03:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/700618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written by bronctastic and me for the Walk on the Wild Side Challenge.  It was originally posted <a href="http://bronctastic.livejournal.com/15231.html">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Interesting Act for the Post

The post rose from the dark wet grass, an obelisk in the middle of the vast meadow. Only the sheep took notice of the hand-hewn pillar, the craftsman long dead and gone, the weathered wood splitting and splintering along the grain. Whoever installed the thing had to have hauled a sledgehammer up to the heights to pound it into the earth so deep.

"What the fuck is that?" asked Jack, tossing the reins to the side of his mare's neck and sliding off his mount. He stepped toward the post, his flip-flops squishing in the damp moss. 

"Dunno," said Ennis. "I never bin ta this meadow before. Some kind a post."

Ennis dismounted and walked over to the thing. Taller than it appeared from horseback, Ennis reached above his shoulder to push on it and felt it hold fast. 

"Real sturdy," he said to Jack, who was slowly rubbing his hand over the surface.

"Not splintery neither" replied Jack as he walked slowly around the thing, flip-flops smacking on soles as he moved.

Ennis stood back and watched him move around it. Only a wild boy like Jack would spend all day a' horseback in flip-flops and shorts. That boy sure had a high pain tolerance. Musta got it all them years straddling bulls.

"Say Jack" Ennis said real slow, eying him sideways "Come 'ere".

Jack stopped in his tracks.

"Whut you thinking, Cowboy?" he arched an eyebrow seductively. He didn't move from the spot, his flip-flops fully embedded in the muck. If Jack weighed more, he'd have sunk clear to his ankles by now. He had about as much chance of freeing himself as he did digging the post out and setting it up in the middle of camp like it was their own version of the goddamn Washington monument. 

"That's just whut I thought," Ennis shrugged. "You can't move outta that mud, dumbass."

"I can sure enough," Jack said, shifting from one foot to the other. "Jus' tryin' a get you ta come on over and give me a hand."

"Jack Fuckin' Twist! I told you not ta wear them dang flip-flops," Ennis stormed over to him, mud splattering with each bootstep. 

Shiftin his weight didn't help, now Jack was sunk up to his ankles and a fair bit more. Ennis faced him and tried to help by liftin him straight up. That just helped sink Ennis in.

"Yer hangin on ta 'em with yer toes, ain't ya?" The boy had prehensile toes. He could pick things up with them. It was weird. 

"No I ain't. Try again." Ennis heaved and sunk deeper. 

"God dammit Jack, let go 'o them damned flip-flops"

"Shit. Jus' didn' wanna lose 'em. 'K I'll leave 'em behind." 

Ennis locked his hands under Jack's ass and hauled back hard. This time the flip-flops weren't holdin Jack, but the mud was holdin Ennis. They toppled backwards and hit with a loud "squish", Jack sprawled on top of Ennis.

"I once saw somethin' like this on Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom," Jack remarked, spittin the mud outta his mouth. "Only Marlin Perkins didn't have a buddy with 'im ta help get outta the muck. Just the cameraman... I think his name was Dave... blonde... blue eyes... tan forearms... long lean legs... but hell, I'll save them thoughts fer when you an' me have bin apart fer a few months..."

In the distance, a sheep bleated repetitiously, yet surreptitiously.

Ennis gasped for air, his chest heaving up and down, his back soaked with mud and moss. The meadow stank of decaying vegetation and smoke and sweat and whiskey, of old carpet and sour hay, saddle leather, shit and cheap soap, of bits of lint when you finally cleaned the filter on the clothes dryer, freshly cut wood and Vick's vapo-rub, plastic bags from the grocery store and cat fur and a whole bunch o' stuff that really didn't smell like it belonged in the meadow. 

"Jack," Ennis hissed, looking over Jack's shoulder, his hands runnin down the length of his tie-dyed sleeveless T-shirt. "The post... it's glowin' "

"Now that's creepy." Jack said after peering back at the pillar.

"Yeah, ain't never seen a post glow like that."

"Ain't what I meant, Ennis. Them sheep. Never heard surreptitious bleating 'fore." 

"Whut?"

"'N 'nother thing Cowboy. When you bathe last? You smell like the insides o' some ol' lady's handbag."

"Jack, I swear. It ain't me. I think it's the post."

Jack glowered down at Ennis. "You mean ta say that thing came outta some ol' lady's handbag? I seen some awful big handbags in ma day, but none that'd fit that."

Ennis squirmed. "Come on, Jack. Git serious. Now it's throbbin' an growin'."

Jack grinned and ground his hips inta Ennis "Yeah, I know."

"Not that ya dumbass! The post!"

"Well, will ya look at that" Jack said in awe.

"Come on, Jack, we need ta git outta here."

"I ain't skeered o' no oversized phallus." Jack said, gazing at the monolith.

"Huh? Oh yeah, well I am" Ennis pushed hard, finally getting Jack off. Jack rolled into the mud with a squish.

Jack lay flat on his back. The mud oozed between his toes and seeped into other crevices on his body that would take more than a roll and a half of paper towels ta clean up with. "Ya know," he smirked, forgetting about the missing flip-flops and strange smell that he swore emanated from Ennis, "If you weren't so damn paranoid, you'd jus' ignore the post and git on over here."

Ennis stammered a bit before chewing on a hangnail. He wasn't sure whether ta leap onto his horse and ride off, leavin' Jack alone with the throbbin' glowin' growin' pillar, or ta stay and see what might happen next. All Jack's talk about bein' enraptured with Marlin Perkins and his cameraman made him feel like he had somethin ta prove. Not the least of which was standing up and facin' the vibratin' Grand-daddy of phallic symbols right there in the middle o' the meadow.

"I think I can perform an interesting sex act," he muttered.

"Whut?" Jack's eyes went wide.

"Ya know... for the post," Ennis said, flicking his belt buckle open with one hand.

"Fer how long?" Jack retorted "Fer how long 'ave I been tryin' ta git you ta perform an interestin sex act out in the open with me and you refuse, then the first giant glowin', throbbin', grownin' phallus that comes along an yer ready ta whip it out an'... say what are ya plannin ta do?"

"Whut's that Jack? You ain't got no ideas? Boys like you always got ideas..."

"I did once," Jack sighed, tryin' ta think o' the ideas he used ta come up with before this big glowin' spire got Ennis all riled up.

"But now, I'm gonna have ta think on it some."

Ennis licked his lips and took a step forward, the belt buckle clanging against his hip.

"That's long enough," Jack said. He rolled onto his stomach and scrambled on all fours toward the post, mud splattering his bare legs. He held onto its radiant luminosity and heaved himself to his feet, turning around so the smooth wood that only looked splintered like it was one a those distressed pieces o' furniture that was made ta look antique, but really was manufactured somewhere in Taiwan, pressed hard into his back. He raised his hands over his head, gripped the post, lacing his fingers, and called, "Come an' get it, Cowboy... if yer waiting fer a matin' call, this is it!"

Ennis grinned a lopsided grin. Yeah, his Jack could always come up with something. Ennis just hoped they didn't get radiation poisoning from this something. Or get incinerated. Or vaporized. Well, maybe vaporized would be okay. Right in the middle of it. Or better, at the end. What a way to go, huh? Or carbonized, turned into some sort of eternal monument to themselves. 

Ennis shook his head, wondering if there weren't something odd about those mushrooms they'd thrown in this morning's omelet. No matter, Jack looked pretty damned good up against that post all back lit and glowing like an angel descending from Heaven. Except for one thing.

"Jack, lose the tie-dye would ya?" Ennis couldn't imagine no angels in tie-dye.

Jack tossed his shirt on the moss and resumed the position. Ennis watched his muscles coil and stretch as he reached above and took hold of the pillar again. Ennis stopped to enjoy the view while he slid his belt off his jeans. He stepped forward and pressed up against Jack, reaching above to hook his belt around the post.

"You gonna tie me ta this thing?" Jack asked looking up at what Ennis was doing.

"Nope, jus givin ya somethin to hang on ta." He looped the rest around Jack's wrists in a fair semblance of hobbles. Then he reached down and pulled off Jack's shorts. Hands traveling over Jack's ass in appreciation. Ennis stepped back a bit, unzipped his jeans and pulled himself out. He was watching Jack watching him as he slicked up from his own personal tube of lube he kept on him at all times during these trips. Jack tested his weight on the belt, then raised his knees apart. 

Ennis stepped into him, found his spot in this unusual position, and pushed.

Jack threw his head back and moaned in that soft tenor of his that always sounded like sex to Ennis. Ennis took one last long look at the angel he was impaling before he increased the pressure, Jack's body tighter having to hold itself against gravity this way. Ennis lost himself to that tightness and the vibrations coming though it from the pillar they pressed against.

Their moist skin slid noiselessly together as Ennis plunged deeper and deeper into his so-called friend. Jack began to lose his leggy grip around Ennis's waist, but Ennis readily helped him stay in place by reaching under Jack's lean legs and hauling them above his knobby hipbones. 

The vibrating post hummed its monotonous tune, a thrumming sound that penetrated Ennis's core, tie-dyed T-shirt be damned.

And sheep be damned too, because now the post seemed to be attracting the woolies toward it, using its hauntingly familiar drone to lure them toward the center of the field.

"Go away," Ennis hissed.

He had no time for the bleating animals. He looked down and saw that Jack was ready to explode. Jack, known for his abnormally heavy production of anticipatory juices, kind of like a garden hose that had been taken from the shed before the final snowstorm of spring, only to be hit by the plow blade of the truck as it scraped the driveway one last time, sending clear droplets of fluid flying everywhere, was ready. 

Ennis reached down and slid his hand over Jack's veined length and pulled in time to his rhythmic thrusts. Jack worked a hand free and slapped his palm against the throbbing pole, leaving a sweaty handprint on its smooth imitation-distressed-furniture surface.

Jack howled an animal cry and Ennis growled his release. The sheep jumped back in sudden fear of the alpha predators coupling in their midst. Jack's cries continuing in time with his spurts. 

When they quieted, Jack freed his other hand, shifting all his weight onto Ennis. Spent, Ennis sank slowly, still holding Jack in his arms as they came to rest in the moss. 

Jack lifted his head to observe the copious amount of pearlescent release that coated Ennis's stomach. "That's some performance enhancin' post, Cowboy," he panted, dragging a curious hand through the pooling spunk. "Who'd a thought?"

Ennis brought Jack's hand to his lips and licked his fingers clean, stealing a glance over Jack's shoulder. "Mmm, guess them sheep would a thought, that's who," he sputtered. "Look at 'em!"

Jack slowly turned, straining his neck to catch a glimpse of what had gotten Ennis's attention. His eyes flew open when he saw what the sheep were up to. 

“Damn! Look at ‘em goin' at it!" Jack gasped, disentangling himself from Ennis to get a better view.

"Ya know Jack, we only got a couple 'o rams in that lot." Ennis said in bewilderment.

"Yup" Jack shook his head "that means we gotta couple 'o thousand lez-bi-an ewes, or sumthin'"

"Look!" Ennis pointed "Them two rams are goin’ at it too!"

"Damn! Cain’t believe it! Queer sheep."

Ennis blew out a breath "Shit, ya know I saw something like this on Wild Kingdom"

"Yeah?" Jack asked dubiously.

"Yeah, a bunch of Bonobos in Africa, you know, like Chimpanzees, but hornier"

"Ya mean they got posts like this in Africa?"

"No, dumbass!" Ennis said, playfully smacking Jack upside the head. "They didn't need no post. 'twas just their way ta spend the day. It's part o' evolution."

"Don't sound like much evolution goin' on ta me. No wonder they're near extinct."

"Maybe them sheep are trying ta tell us somethin?" Ennis said, jabbing Jack with his jutting joystick, already ready for another round.

"Like whut?"

"Like they got no evolutionary choice but ta get it on with their own kind. All them hiker folk are encroachin' on their habitat in Yosemite, Yellowstone, Yachats, Yukon... Makin' the sheep unwillin' ta procreate 'coz they're bein' run off the land by them L.L. Bean types."

"Devil's Tower?"

"No, I was tryin' ta alliterate."

"Ya know, fer a Cowboy as quiet as you always been, you sure know al lot 'bout the scientific theories o' evolution and literature."

“Seems ta me that what they’re doin’ is just a natural reaction to environmental an’ evolutionary pressures,” Ennis continued, propping his back against the post to watch the sheep better. “’n there ain’t a damned thing wrong with it.”

“So what yer sayin’ is them sheep ain’t queer, they’re just doin’ what nature intended?” Jack said, studying Ennis’ face.

“Honest Jack, that’s what I been tryin’ ta say all along.”

“All right then, old son” Jack said, moving to straddle Ennis’ hips “how ‘bout we get back ta doin’ what nature intended?”


End file.
